The Girl Who Lived
by TheWriterGirls
Summary: Emma Potter grew up believing that she had no connection to the famous Boy Who Lived. That is, until she meets him on their first day at Hogwarts and realizes that things are not always what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This will be a retelling of the story of Harry Potter, and as such will likely be a long fic, quite possibly split into seven parts. This is an introduction of sorts, and will start to track with the original story in the next chapter. Thank you for reading, and please leave a review!_

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Emma leaned with her back flush against the wall, her head turned slightly toward the doorway. She could see a sliver of Albus Dumbledore's impressive office from her hidden vantage point, and as she listened, she could hear two very familiar voices; Albus himself and Rubeus Hagrid, who was not only the gamekeeper at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but also one of the people who had raised her.

"Hagrid, I need you to do something for me," Albus was saying. Emma had been told to go to her room, so naturally she'd been curious as to what this little meeting was about. Despite being Albus Dumbledore's adopted daughter, Emma had a mischievous streak.

"What d'you need, Headmaster?" Hagrid asked immediately, and Emma smiled slightly to herself at his willingness.

"I need you to go and get Harry Potter," Dumbledore replied quietly, almost too quietly for Emma to hear. Nevertheless, she heard, and her curiosity was piqued instantly. She'd heard of Harry Potter growing up in the magical world; the boy who lived, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord even though he was only a year old. Emma recalled wondering about him when she was younger; what had happened to him, after all? She supposed she was curious because they shared the same last name.  
"Get him?" Hagrid repeated, a note of confusion in his tone.

"Yes, get him," Albus told him again. He sighed, and Emma could detect his worry. "I've been sending out his letter all week. Yet, it seems that none of them have reached him with his aunt and uncle, unfortunately."

"Why's that?" Hagrid asked inquisitively. Emma heard Albus sigh again.

"I foresaw this being a problem," he admitted. "As much as I was hoping that it wouldn't be. His relatives are not very keen on the idea of Harry's abilities. It seems we have no other choice but to send someone after him."

"But...me?" Hagrid asked, sounding bewildered. Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"Yes, Hagrid," he replied patiently. "I think you, in fact, are the only person I would trust with Harry Potter."

"Does Emma know?" Hagrid asked, his voice slightly hushed, as if perhaps he suspected Emma would be lurking nearby. Her blood ran cold.

 _"Does Emma know what?"_ she thought. What was it that she wasn't supposed to know? Her thoughts were racing; she couldn't help but wonder what Harry Potter had to do with her, and leaned in closer to the stone doorway, straining to hear the response. Albus sighed heavily, and she glanced over to find his silhouette in the window, the familiar long white beard catching the morning light from the grounds of Hogwarts.

"No," he said. "I've kept Harry's identity from Emma all her life; she'll find out soon enough, as will he. Should she come up in conversation when you're with the boy," he continued, turning back to face Hagrid, "that wouldn't be the worst thing."

Hagrid nodded his large head, seemingly in understanding of what Dumbledore was implying. Emma leaned against the wall as the conversation between them turned to a package Dumbledore needed Hagrid to pick up while he was in London with Harry Potter.

She sighed slightly to herself, wondering idly if she had picked up that habit from living with Dumbledore since she was a baby. He certainly seemed to sigh a lot, more and more often as of late. She wondered again what Harry Potter had to do with her, and why Albus would have kept it from her for so long. As the two of them continued to discuss various topics, Emma internally lamented the fact that she couldn't ask Albus about Harry Potter; if she did, he would know she had been listening in on a conversation she had specifically been told not to. Albus would be disappointed in her, and she hated that feeling. Besides, it would ruin her future chances to be sneaky. She'd perfected the tactic of hiding in various corners and listening in on conversations; she'd never had friends her own age, and when she wasn't trailing around after Hagrid learning everything she could about the magical creatures he knew so well, she was creeping around her castle home, listening close and fading into the background.

After Hagrid left, Emma waited a few minutes and then she pushed off the wall, letting her feet carry her down the spiraling stone steps to Albus' main office. He looked up from his desk, smiling a little bit at her.

"Where are you off to this morning?" he asked her. She forced a smile, trying to put Harry Potter out of her mind to no avail.

"I just thought I would wander about for a bit," she said off-handedly, turning quickly to leave the office. At the moment, she didn't particularly want to spend any longer around Albus than she had to. Her feet wandered the corridors of the castle she had called home for as long as she could remember. It was nearly muscle memory by now; the layout was so familiar to her that she barely even noticed where she was going until she got there. She found herself standing before a large painting of a fruit basket. Smiling a little bit to herself, she reached up, her slender hand hovering over the pear painted onto the canvas, using her fingers to tickle it. The portrait swung open and she climbed through to the kitchen, where she was immediately surrounded by house elves. She smiled; it was warm there, and it smelled like bread. The house-elves had been her friends all her life; here, she always felt welcome. Albus did his best, and she loved him. Yet, he'd been guarded with himself, and he was often busy; she didn't fault him for it, but she'd never felt as home with him as she'd always wished she could.

"Master Potter," they chorused excitedly. Emma shook her head, brushing her long dark hair behind her shoulder as she hopped onto the counter to sit, her legs swinging back and forth.

"How many times have I told you guys not to call me that?" she asked rhetorically. The house elves started to murmur apologies and Emma laughed.

"Eclair?" asked Pinkle, a slight house elf that had been at Hogwarts twice as long as Emma had been alive.

"Naturally," Emma sighed, reaching for the eclair with a smile.

"Something is bothering Master Emma?" Pinkle asked, awkwardly climbing up onto the counter to stand next to Emma, who nodded her head as she swallowed a bite of the pastry.

"Yes," she admitted. "It's a conversation I overheard between Albus and Hagrid," she told her.

Pinkle looked at her quizzically, and Emma took another bite of eclair before she continued, using her free hand to push her glasses up on her nose so that she could better see through the slightly smudged lenses.

"They were talking about Harry Potter," she confided. "I never thought he had anything to do with me, but…" she trailed off thoughtfully.

"Now Master Emma thinks something different?" Pinkle asked inquisitively. Emma nodded affirmatively again.

"Hagrid asked Albus if I knew, but he didn't really say what I'm supposed to have known." Frustration must have been evident in her voice, because Pinkle quickly handed Emma another chocolate eclair. Emma sighed, leaning back against the wall behind her as she continued to eat the pastry as if she hadn't even noticed that she'd finished the first one.

"I just wish someone would explain," she admitted.

"Perhaps Master Dumbledore will tell Master Emma later," Pinkle suggested, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Yes, naturally- he'll tell me later. I just wish he would tell me now. Or," she added, "that he'd told me to begin with."

"Patience, Master Emma," Pinkle said wisely. "Everything will be alright in the end."

Emma offered the house elf a smile. Pinkle had always been rational, and it had proved helpful to Emma more times than she cared to admit.

"Thanks for the advice, Pink," she remarked, slipping nimbly off the counter and landing catlike on her feet. She offered a cheeky grin and added, "And the eclairs!"

Then, in a whirlwind of dark hair, Emma was gone as quickly as she had come. Pinkle shook her small head and returned to her work.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma ran to the window and looked outside, excitement written all over her face. She sighed impatiently. "When are they going to get here?" she asked herself. A quick glance at her watch told her that not a minute had passed. She couldn't wait to be sorted into one of the Houses and make some friends her age.  
She noticed faint lights from boats and she grinned. New friends were on their way to the castle. She turned and ran as fast as she could to Professor McGonagall's office. She skidded to a stop before the doorway and swung on the frame with one arm to look inside. The professor looked up from her desk, her expression both inquisitive and slightly amused.

"They're here!"

Professor McGonagall looked over her glasses at Emma.

"I suppose it's time to meet them then," she said mildly. Emma smiled brightly, then turned and ran back down the hall while Minerva shook her head slightly at the child's enthusiasm.

Emma waited by the doors for her, bouncing on her toes. The professor of transfiguration came to stand next to Emma, shooting the excited girl a sideways glance.

"Be patient, Emma," she said quietly. Emma grinned up at her.

"I've been patient my whole life," she remarked, and Minerva turned away to hide her smile. In truth, she had always been very fond of Emma, who had been enthusiastic and lively from the time she was a toddler. She had worried, though, that Emma would struggle when her peers arrived at Hogwarts. Even now, as the two of them waited for the arriving first years to filter into the entrance hall, Minerva couldn't help the slight fear that nipped at her; fear that Emma would lose her confidence when faced with a social situation unlike any she'd encountered during her sheltered life inside the grounds of Hogwarts, with adults and creatures for company.  
There was suddenly chattering that filled the space as the large doors swung open to welcome the castle's newest inhabitants. Emma fell back into the shadows of the hallway, watching and waiting. A mix of excitement and nervousness filled her, and she wondered if the rest of the first years were feeling the way she did. She watched them all wander in, their voices mingling in the air, filling the space with a nervous energy.

Professor McGonagall stepped into the front of the first years and cleared her throat; almost immediately, the crowd of eleven-year-olds fell silent, looking up expectantly. Emma had been in the shadows, listening to this speech, every year since she was five. The professor's crisp voice faded into the back of her mind as she slowly edged into the room. Her green eyes surveyed the crowd and she could feel her confidence waning. She'd waited years for this moment, for her chance to be a part of the lifeblood of Hogwarts, rather than remaining in the backdrop the way she had her whole life. Yet, now, with it all right in front of her, she wasn't quite so sure. In fact, part of her very much wanted to retreat into the shadows of her quiet life.

It was at that moment, as she made her way unseen around the edge of the group, that she happened to glance up and meet a very familiar pair of eyes across the entrance hall.

A boy, her height, with a mess of dark hair, round glasses that concealed bright green eyes, and a scar across his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, stared back at her. Emma felt an unfamiliar jolt in her stomach as their eyes met. She knew immediately that this was no ordinary boy, at least not as far as she was concerned. He looked as shocked as she felt, because each of them may as well have been looking into a mirror; they looked exactly alike. Emma had barely had a chance to process this when Professor McGonagall was ushering the group into the Great Hall and Emma had lost sight of the boy in question.

As she absentmindedly entered the Great Hall, everyone around her was staring in awe at the countless floating candles and enchanted ceiling. A bushy-haired girl to her right was rattling off facts in a whisper, but Emma hardly noticed. Inside her mind, everything was falling into place, and she was no longer certain of anything. The boy she'd seen in the entrance hall was familiar to her for more than one reason, but perhaps most importantly, she now understood the conversation she'd overheard in July; this boy, she had no doubt in her mind, was Harry Potter. She had heard tell of his lightning scar, the one he supposedly got the night he defeated Lord Voldemort. Their matching last names no longer seemed like a coincidence at all, but rather the opposite.

Harry Potter, it seemed, was her twin brother. Little did she know that, ahead of her, Harry's mind was whirling. Hagrid had mentioned to him that everything the Dursleys had told him was a lie; he'd grown up believing that his twin sister, Emma, had died with his parents in the car crash he'd survived as a baby. Yet, even though he'd been aware that it wasn't true, he hadn't been prepared to see identical green eyes staring back at him in his first moments at Hogwarts.

As the Sorting began, Emma tried her hardest to focus on it. While she was anxious to discover what House she would be Sorted into, it seemed to take a back burner to her newest concern, which was that of the twin brother she'd never known existed. As she watched Albus step up to speak to the crowd of new and returning students, a rush of anger flooded her body. She was furious that he could have kept something like this to himself.

 _'How could he not tell me I have a twin brother?'_ she wondered to herself as she watched Albus' blue eyes glitter in the candlelight.

As she watched Parvati and Padma Patil get split into Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, respectively, she wondered idly whether she and Harry would end up in the same House. Her whole life, she'd been watching groups of students be Sorted, and had always been desperate to know where she would end up. She'd recently gotten her wand from Mr. Ollivander, who was a friend of Albus'. It had been fun to have him show her an array of wands he'd brought to Hogwarts for her to try, but she'd still wished she could've gone to Diagon Alley like the others. She'd only ever been there once, when she was six. Hagrid had taken her, and it had been stunning. It was only the sound of the name "Potter" that brought her out of her reverie. She snapped to attention in time to watch Harry make his way shakily up to the stool on which the Sorting Hat rested. Emma recalled the time she'd been alone in Albus' office at the age of nine, and had placed the Sorting Hat on her own head.

 _"Ah, Miss Potter,"_ it had rasped in her mind. _"I believe you're a little bit young to be Sorted, eh?"_ The Sorting Hat had refused to tell her anything about which House she belonged to, which had sent her in annoyance to the kitchens to complain to Pinkle over chocolate eclairs.

Now, Emma watched in anticipatory silence with the rest of the Great Hall while the Sorting Hat debated on where to place the great Harry Potter. Soon, there was a resounding shout of "Gryffindor!" and the members of the crowd burst into applause as Harry smiled brightly and stumbled over to the Gryffindor table. Emma looked up and met Albus' bright blue eyes. She glared a little bit at him and stubbornly looked away. She knew her turn was next, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest as McGonagall cleared her throat and looked out at the remaining first years.

"Potter, Emma!" the familiar voice said clearly. Emma felt her feet carry her closer and closer to the stool as she attempted to put Harry out of her mind. This was a moment she'd been waiting for nearly as long as she could remember; she was determined to enjoy it. She placed the tattered hat on top of her head for the second time in her life, and closed her eyes, waiting.

 _"Emma Lily Potter,"_ murmured the voice of the Sorting Hat. _"Nice to make your acquaintance again...at the appropriate time this time around."_ Emma rolled her eyes at the snide comment.

 _"Not that I expected anything less…"_ the Sorting Hat continued. _"After all, mischief is in your blood."_ Emma felt a pang of some emotion that she couldn't quite identify at the thought that the Sorting Hat knew more about her history than she herself did.

 _"You know, you are awfully bright,"_ mused the Sorting Hat. _"I've always thought you'd do well in Ravenclaw."_ Unbidden, the thought of Harry rushed into Emma's mind, the image of him sitting at the lively Gryffindor table flooding her being. She found herself desperate to join him there, despite the fact that for most of her childhood she'd been torn between a desire to be labeled as brave and a desire to be labeled as intelligent.

 _"Ah, your brother,"_ the Sorting Hat remarked, sounding as if it'd seen this coming. _"Yes, I wondered if that would come into play. Well, Emma, you are a courageous spirit. You'd be well suited to Gryffindor."_

 _"Then put me in Gryffindor,"_ she thought, her frustration evident.

 _"If you're sure that's where you'll be best…"_ The Sorting Hat trailed off and Emma sighed.

 _"Yes, I suppose your impatience is one indicator of your Gryffindor traits,"_ The Sorting Hat said agreeably. _"Better be…"_

There was a shout of Gryffindor and joy rushed through Emma's veins. She couldn't help but smile as she pulled the hat off her head and, ignoring her tousled raven waves, ran down the steps to the cheering Gryffindor table. Emma cautiously sat down across from Harry Potter, both of them well aware of the whispers. Not only were people talking about famous Harry Potter, but they were also talking about the slight girl who looked exactly like him.  
There was tense quiet between them as the Sorting continued. When, finally, the last student was Sorted and the headmaster had said his piece, an odd string of words that didn't faze Emma at all after ten years of living with the man, Emma finally tore her gaze away from her brother to look at the students around them. She smiled slightly when she saw two familiar faces.

"Hey, Emma," chorused Fred and George Weasley.

"Hey, Fred. Hi, George," Emma remarked casually as she reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes. A younger redheaded boy, whose name she had just learned to be Ronald, and who was clearly Fred and George's younger brother, gaped at his two older brothers.

"How d'you two know her?" he asked, sounding bewildered. Something told Emma he sounded that way more often than not.  
Fred shrugged as he piled lamb chops on his plate.

"Met her last year," George replied. He looked up at Emma with mischievous sparkling eyes. "Found her in one of the secret passageways, didn't we Fred?"

"We did," Fred confirmed. "Gave us a right scare-"

"-Until we realized she was just another harmless mischief-maker," George finished.

"Right, Emma?" they asked together. Emma grinned at the two of them, suddenly grateful that she'd ended up in Gryffindor for more than just her brother.

"There are secret passageways here?" Harry piped up, sounding awed. Emma looked over at him quickly, as if she had only just remembered he was there.

"Yes," Emma replied. "There are lots. I'd found them all by the time I turned seven." She appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then added, "As far as I know, that is."

"Wait." The word came from the same bushy-haired girl who Emma had heard earlier, talking about the enchanted ceiling above them. Now, they all looked over at her inquisitively.

"This is only our first year," she pointed out. "How have you been here since you were seven?"

"I've been here since I was one," Emma replied as she dragged her fork through her potatoes. She wasn't particularly fond of the fact that all eyes were on her.

"Why?" She looked up at the sound of Harry's curious voice. It was interesting to her that he was the one to ask that particular question, and she kept her gaze on him as she answered.

"I was adopted by the headmaster," she said.

"You're Dumbledore's kid?" asked the younger Weasley, dumbfounded. She glanced over at him and then back to Harry as she shook her head.

"Not exactly," she replied. "But sort of. My parents…" she hesitated to tell the story as it occurred to her that it might not be the truth. After all, Albus had lied to her about her brother...what else could he have lied about all these years?

"They were killed," Harry said softly. "Right?" Emma shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know," she said. "Is that what they told you?"

The two Potters stared at each other for a moment. The rest of the group seemed to sense that this was something between Harry and Emma, and remained silent. That is, all except for Ron, who seemed to have trouble catching on.

"Wait…" he said. He furrowed his eyebrows and the others stared at him, waiting for him to catch up. Fred and George looked remotely bored, and it occurred to Emma that they were probably rather used to this. "You two are twins," he said slowly. "But you didn't grow up together." Emma sighed and glanced over at Fred and George.

"Is he always like this?" she asked.

"Pretty much," they said together.

"Clearly, we are twins," she said, her tone slightly scathing. She glanced at Harry and he stared back at her, obviously unsure of what to say in this situation.

"And no, we didn't grow up together." Her words hung heavy in the air until the tense silence was broken by the arrival of Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

"Ah, Emma!" he said importantly. "I see all of my recruitment efforts have paid off." Emma smiled in spite of herself. As a child, Emma would often find Nick floating alongside her as she wandered the corridors of Hogwarts, rattling off all the reasons why she should lobby for the Sorting Hat to place her in Gryffindor.

"I suppose so," she replied. As Nick went on to introduce himself to Harry, Ron, and the girl whose name Emma had yet to learn, Emma decided to let her questions go for now. She would most definitely need to have a discussion with her newly discovered twin brother, but for now there was a feast to be had.

A serious talk like that could wait until their second day as Gryffindors, she decided, and promptly dug into her favorite soup.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thanks for your support! We're both hoping very much that you guys will continue to enjoy this story as much as we are enjoying writing it. -Cassie and Mary_

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Emma slowly descended the stairs from her dormitory into the Gryffindor common room. Despite the relatively early hour, it was already abuzz with activity. Emma felt perfectly at home in the halls of Hogwarts; she no longer missed the trick steps, she knew which paintings were friendly enough to talk to, and she'd long-since memorized the schedule that the moving staircases kept to. Yet, in Gryffindor Tower she felt like the first year she was. It was foreign territory and she knew almost no one. The girl who seemed to have read every fact that existed about Hogwarts had turned out to be called Hermione Granger, and she was sleeping in the bed next to Emma's in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory. The combination of a familiar face and the presence of her cat, Snow, who was already curled up on her bed when she arrived after the feast, had made her first night there much less unsettling.

Now, however, on the morning of her second day as a Gryffindor student, Emma had summoned all her confidence. There was no time to be hesitant; after all, she had a twin brother to talk to.

She found Harry alone, and thought herself grateful that she'd found him that way rather than surrounded by admirers. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. She'd spent an inordinate amount of time the night before attempting to decide what she would say to him, and yet as he looked up at her, she still had no clue what she was about to say.

"Emma," he said. She felt a jolt in her stomach at the sound of her own name from his mouth. She sat down in the chair across from him in a little corner of the warm common room, near a window which overlooked the Black Lake. She glanced outside and caught a glimpse of the Giant Squid in the murky waters, and smiled a little to herself as she recalled the time Hagrid had first taken her to meet the squid.

"Did you know you had a sister?" she asked, the words spilling from her lips unexpectedly; she had certainly intended to be more subtle, but something in her was taken over by the bright eyes and messy hair she'd gotten used to seeing every day in the mirror. Harry shook his head a little bit.

"Not really," he replied. "Well- I did, but I thought you were dead. I didn't even know I was a wizard until my birthday."

Emma gaped at him, momentarily caught off guard by his words. He hadn't known he was a wizard? Emma couldn't imagine growing up without the knowledge of her own magical abilities; it was as much a part of her as the birthmark on her shoulder or her dark hair.

"Oh," she murmured. Her mind was whirling as she struggled to put the pieces together.

"Did you know you had a brother?" Harry asked her, and Emma looked up to meet his gaze. She shook her head slowly.

"No," she told him honestly. "Not even a dead one," she added with a mirthless sort of laugh. There was a beat of silence between them, one that should have been awkward but somehow wasn't. Emma wondered if it was a twin thing- she'd heard that was a common occurrence, although she couldn't be sure since she'd never known she was one.

Emma hesitated. She had so many questions, each of them seemingly more pressing than the last. She wasn't even sure what Harry knew and what he didn't, but she was determined to figure it all out.

"Why did your- _our_ \- aunt and uncle only want you?" she asked, struggling to keep from sounding as angry and hurt as she felt. Harry stared at her for a moment, looking vaguely surprised.

"Want me?" he repeated. "They- they didn't," he said. Emma furrowed her brow at him.

"What do you mean, they didn't?" she asked. Harry seemed trapped, and Emma felt a pang of sympathy for him as she watched him struggle to put it into words. Emma got the distinct feeling that Harry was fearful, as if he wasn't quite used to the idea that he was safe. Emma was bewildered by the idea; she couldn't imagine feeling the emotions she saw written on her brother's face, and the fact of their wildly different upbringings was starting to set in on her.

"Were they cruel to you?" she asked softly. Harry hesitated, but ultimately nodded shortly, alongside a sort of halfhearted shrug of his shoulders, and Emma fell silent, observing him across the table. They looked exactly alike, but Emma was beginning to notice the fierce differences between she and her twin. Namely, Harry's lack of confidence in himself. Emma had never thought herself extraordinary, but at the same time she had never doubted her own abilities. Harry, on the other hand, was stumbling about in his own skin, desperately unsure of himself.

It made anger well within her, and suddenly Emma was seized by a very intense desire to give Albus Dumbledore a piece of her mind.

"Come on," she said decisively to Harry, who looked up at her, his expression a little startled. Emma impatiently grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her through the portrait hole and out into the corridor.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, sounding puzzled.

"We're going to see the Headmaster," Emma replied grimly, her stride so quick and purposeful that Harry had to increase his pace to keep up with her as she easily navigated the halls. By the time the pair reached the gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry was slightly out of breath, while Emma remained unfazed. Harry supposed that, after he got used to the long walks from one end of the castle to the other, he too could manage them the way Emma did.

"Pepper Imp," Emma sighed to the gargoyles, who sprung to life and moved aside for her. She stepped easily onto the spiral staircase, barely even taking notice of Harry, who followed her, looking around with a mixture of fear and awe.

As Emma barged into Dumbledore's office with Harry behind her, the headmaster looked up and a shadow crossed his face at the sight.

"Emma," he said slowly, his bright gaze drifting briefly across Harry before looking back to the girl he'd raised. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his calm tone infuriating Emma even more.

"You can tell me why I never knew I had a brother," she spat back at him. Some part of her was beginning to see that the Sorting Hat had known what it was doing when it placed her in Gryffindor- and it was about much more than her desire to be with her brother. Albus Dumbledore sighed somewhat gravely, pressing the tips of his long fingers together thoughtfully.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that...either of you," he said, sounding frustratingly unconcerned.

"Don't say that, Alby!" Emma exclaimed, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed at the sound of the nickname coming out of her own mouth. Her embarrassment didn't last long; she was too fired up and angry to let it bother her for more than a moment. "Harry just told me how our aunt and uncle treat him, and I can't believe you would let that happen to him," Emma said furiously. "And me! I don't know anything about my parents...well, I do now. But you let me grow up thinking they just died in the war; you let me read about my family like they were strangers."

Albus' eyes were disturbingly clear as he gazed at the eleven-year-old twins before him; Emma looking more furious than he'd ever seen her, Harry looking slightly bewildered, struggling to keep himself from gazing around the office in awe. It weighed heavily on his heart, the future he knew they were both facing, not to mention the childhood he'd only been able to spare one of them from. He watched as Fawkes the phoenix soared through the window, heading straight for Emma, who boldly and casually held out her arm on which he landed swiftly.

"Hello, Fawkes," she murmured, slipping from her angry state for a moment in favor of tenderness toward the animal, whom she had loved as long as she could remember. It was only a moment, though, and soon her green eyes were flashing in Dumbledore's direction.

"How could you do this?" she asked, and while his face remained calm, there was some part of the headmaster that cringed at her harsh words, and, even more, her tone. She sounded scandalized, betrayed, as if she would never trust him again. Albus had seen this coming; he'd known that Emma would meet Harry and put the pieces together. Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the way she was looking at him now.

Emma seemed to have gathered that she wasn't going to get any more information just then, and it appeared her desire to be far away from him was bigger than her desire to press him. She murmured something softly to Fawkes, who took flight from her arm at once. Then, with one last scathing look at Albus, she turned on her heel, stopping only when she reached the door and realized Harry was still standing in place, staring silently at the various magical instruments in the room.

"Come on, Harry," Emma said, sounding only a little impatient. Harry jolted in surprise, his gaze swinging around to Emma. He quickly turned to follow her, giving Dumbledore and his office one last glance over his shoulder as he hastened to follow his sister out the door and down the spiraling stairs once more.

"Ugh," Emma groaned in disgust as they returned to the corridors. Harry found himself rather grateful that Emma seemed to have decided their urgent pace was no longer necessary; they were instead walking at a normal speed, and Harry had no problem keeping up with her this time around as they retraced their steps to Gryffindor Tower. "He's absolutely unbelievable!" Emma exclaimed. Harry was slightly scared of his twin sister, if he was being perfectly honest. She was very confident, and she had more nerve than he'd ever though he himself could possess. Even so, he found that there was a part of him that identified with her, saw his own traits within her on some level, albeit one that wasn't quite within his grasp. He couldn't help but wonder; if he'd grown up the way Emma had, would he be confident and brazen like her?

It was only when they had reached Gryffindor tower that he noticed Emma was still complaining about Dumbledore and his oblivious stubbornness, as she put it. As they reached the portrait hole and gave the password, Emma suddenly turned away, muttering something to Harry about the color pink and chocolate before she was gone, leaving her bemused twin to climb through to the Gryffindor common room by himself, shaking his head at his sister.

* * *

As their first week at Hogwarts wore on, Harry and Emma both experienced a myriad of new things. For one, they were slowly getting to know one another; it seemed that Harry was never going to stop being amazed by the things Emma knew, while Emma felt increasingly more sick and angry as she learned tidbits about Harry's childhood with her aunt, uncle, and cousin, whom she learned were called Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley, respectively. Emma seemed to be splitting her time between accompanying Hermione Granger on her many ventures to the library and exploring with Harry and Ron, who didn't seem very fond of Hermione themselves. Emma thought she was rather nice, if a little boring sometimes. On Friday morning, Emma was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Ron, spreading marmalade on her toast.

"What have we got today?" Harry was inquiring of Ron, who informed the Potter twins that they were in for a double-period of Potions with the first years of Slytherin House. Harry groaned- according to him, he'd already met a Slytherin first-year that he wasn't particularly fond of, though Emma herself had yet to cross paths with the boy in question. It was then that the mail arrived, and Emma watched a familiar school owl swoop down over her toast, dropping a note on it. She quickly picked up the note, making a face at the way the note had become messy with her breakfast thanks to the bird's poor aim. She read over the familiar handwriting quickly, and then turned to Harry.

"Hagrid's invited us both for tea this afternoon," she informed him, and glanced at Ron. "If you like, you can come too," she offered. Both boys readily agreed, and she sent a quick response back to Hagrid- marmalade and all.

Potions took place in the cool dungeons. It was there that Harry quietly pointed out blonde-haired Draco Malfoy to Emma and Ron as they set their schoolbags down beside their chairs. Emma took note of his sneer and the two large boys who flanked him on either side. She got a distinctively bad feeling about all three of them. Professor Severus Snape, a man with a hooked nose and oddly greasy black hair, seemed remarkably unpleasant. Emma had seen him before, of course, but from a distance; he left Hogwarts during the summers like the majority of the teachers, and he'd never so much as looked her direction. Emma was unsurprised by the fact that he didn't seem to know her on sight; she'd never gotten the impression that he liked children very much, which made her wonder why he had wanted to teach in the first place. He began class by taking role, and paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new- _celebrity_." He spoke with alarming venom, and Emma noticed that he didn't even bother to look up as he read her name as well. He began to speak about his subject in a reverent tone, his voice barely more than a whisper. Snape had a way, it seemed, of commanding the attention of his class effortlessly. Even so, the actual words he was saying were rather harsh- none of their other teachers had been nearly so mean to them. He actually referred to his normal students as 'dunderheads', which seemed to make most of the class even more unsettled than they were to begin with. Emma glanced over at Hermione, who was sitting on the edge of her seat looking as if she were desperate to prove she was not, in fact, a dunderhead.

"Emma!" Snape said suddenly, and Emma felt her heart rate pick up a little bit as she looked up. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Emma caught Harry and Ron exchanging identical looks of confusion. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Hermione's hand shoot up into the air at an alarming speed.

"You would get a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death," Emma replied. Snape narrowed his eyes at her a little suspiciously as Harry and Ron looked impressed and Hermione, disappointed.

"Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?" Snape asked, now meeting Emma's defiant gaze.

"In the stomach of a goat," Emma replied calmly.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape asked, although Emma had begun to wonder if he was still trying to trip her up or if he was simply testing how much she knew.

"They're the same plant, Professor," Emma replied, her tone still even as her bright green eyes maintained contact with his dark ones. "Also known as aconite," she added softly.

For a moment, Snape stared at her, something she couldn't identify stirring in his otherwise somewhat lifeless dark irises. Then, he cleared his throat and turned to the class again.

"Well?" he snarled. "Why aren't you all copying this down?"

The room was filled with the scratching of quills as everyone rushed to take note of the information, and although Emma was also writing down the information she already knew, she could feel Snape's eyes on her. Something told her that she'd just done something unprecedented, because she got the distinct feeling that Professor Snape _liked_ her.


	4. Chapter 4

Following their first Potions lesson, the Potter twins and Ron walked together across the school grounds toward Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry found that he was rather curious about the Forest, and what exactly resided there. When he voiced this curiosity aloud to Emma and Ron, Emma shrugged her shoulders and impatiently brushed her wayward dark hair out of her eyes.

"Acromantulas, unicorns, centaurs," she listed off. "Among others." Harry wanted desperately to respond, but by that point, they were nearing Hagrid's, and he became distracted; he stowed that information away in his mind to ask his sister about later.

Harry reached up to knock on Hagrid's door and they immediately heard a scrambling sound, accompanied by loud barking, from within. They could also hear Hagrid's voice, saying "Back, Fang- back."

Once Hagrid had successfully gotten Fang to back up from right in front of the door, he opened the door to them and let them in, although he was still holding onto the collar of a large black boarhound. As soon as Fang caught sight of Emma, he became even more frantic, his barking turning to a desperate, happy sort of whining.

"Oh, alrigh'," Hagrid sighed, letting go of Fang, who sprang forward in an attempt to reach Emma, who laughed and knelt down, seemingly unconcerned with the liberal amounts of drool that were getting all over her black school robes. Clearly, she and Fang were old friends.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said to the other two.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was busying himself with preparing tea and arranging rock cakes on a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, clearly having taken in Ron's red hair and freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."  
As Harry and Ron pretended to enjoy the rock cakes that Emma had long-since learned not to touch with a ten-foot pole, let alone her mouth, the girl herself turned to Hagrid with an inquisitive expression.

"Hagrid?" she asked.

"Eh?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Harry?" she inquired. For some reason, her anger at Dumbledore didn't carry over to Hagrid. She simply couldn't bring herself to be angry with the gamekeeper the way she was with the headmaster.

"Dumbledore," he answered immediately, looking at her with earnest eyes. "Made me swear not to tell yeh anythin'." It was the answer Emma had been expecting, and she nodded, choosing to drop the subject. Hagrid, for his part, did not seem keen on taking that conversation any further, either, as he changed the subject to their first week of lessons.

Harry and Ron were delighted when Hagrid referred to Filch as 'that old git'. Emma, on the other hand, adopted a slightly disapproving expression. She knew that it was the popular opinion on Argus Filch, the caretaker at Hogwarts. Even so, she'd never had any real problems with him, and she always felt mildly uncomfortable when she heard people talk negatively of him. She knew he could be difficult, but in her experience, he wasn't that bad.

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime," Hagrid was saying.

"Hagrid!" Emma said reproachfully, looking up from where she was petting Fang on Hagrid's floor. All three of the others looked over at her; Hagrid in reluctant acquiescence, the two boys in inquisitive curiosity.

"I think she's sweet," Emma said defensively. "Just...misunderstood." Harry and Ron looked at her doubtfully and she rolled her eyes at them.

Harry told Hagrid that they'd just had Potions with Professor Snape.

"He doesn't seem to like me at all," Harry divulged.

"Well, Snape doesn' like any o' the students, does he?" Hagrid replied offhandedly.

"He seemed to like me," Emma said softly. Hagrid looked between the two boys and Emma, his expression one of confusion.

"It's true," Harry confirmed. "She answered all his questions, though." Emma had gotten the feeling it had been more than that, but the subject was dropped in favor of discussing Ron's older brother Charlie, who was working with dragons. Emma loved all magical creatures, dragons included, so she was listening attentively. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry pick up a copy of The Daily Prophet that was lying on Hagrid's table.

A moment later, Harry caught the attention of the other three.

"Hagrid!" he said, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there."

Emma watched as Hagrid determinedly did not meet Harry's gaze. Instead, he attempted to change the subject, but Emma watched him, her curiosity piqued.

"Harry," she said as the trio headed back up to the castle sometime later. Her brother looked over at her. "What did that article say about the Gringotts break-in?" Harry was grateful Emma had asked; the break-in and Hagrid's response had been bothering him.

"It said that the vault in question had been emptied that same day," he replied. Emma furrowed her brow at him, remembering what Harry had said when he'd been recounting to her his first visit to the wizarding bank.

"Didn't you say that Hagrid emptied the vault he took that little package out of?" she asked. Harry nodded immediately, glad to find that Emma seemed to be thinking along the same lines that he was. Emma suddenly recalled the day in July that she'd overheard Albus instructing Hagrid about going to get Harry.

 _"I'll also need you to pick up that package from Gringotts that we discussed,"_ Albus had said gravely. Emma had paid it no mind at the time, but now it seemed markedly more important, and she wondered what had been in it.

They remained quiet, each of them lost in thought, as they completed the trek to the castle for dinner, while Ron attempted to nibble at the edge of one of Hagrid's rock cakes, as oblivious as ever.

Later in the week, following a notice that was pinned up on the board in the common room, the first-year Gryffindors were preparing for their first flying lesson.

"Typical," Harry was saying darkly. "Of course we'd have flying with the Slytherins; just what I always wanted, to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"You might be good at it," Emma remarked. She'd only flown a couple of times herself, but she had overheard Draco Malfoy talking about how great he was at Quidditch, and had gotten the distinct feeling that he wasn't quite as good as he had been telling people.

Neville Longbottom, who shared a dormitory with Ron, Harry, and two other boys that Emma didn't know well, had informed Emma in an anxious voice that he had never been on a broomstick because his grandmother had never let him near one. She and Harry agreed between them that she probably had a point with that rule; Neville was very clumsy and accident prone.

As they'd been getting ready for bed the night before, Hermione had told Emma that she was extremely nervous about flying; it wasn't something she could learn from a book, after all. Hermione had tried, though; at breakfast that morning, she could be found rattling off flying tips she'd gotten from a library book called Quidditch Through The Ages, which, judging by Hermione's boring facts, was a book Emma never wanted to read. Neville, however, was paying very close attention to every word Hermione said. He was the only one that was upset when the arrival of the mail interrupted her.

The mail brought a package for Neville from his grandmother, which turned out to be a Remembrall. Emma quickly explained to Harry and Hermione that the little sphere was a device meant to tell the owner if he or she had forgotten something; if they had, the white smoke inside would turn scarlet. As she explained, they all watched the smoke inside Neville's new Remembrall turn colors, and a worried expression came over his face.

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, sauntered over to their table and Malfoy snatched the Remembrall from Neville's hand casually.

Harry and Ron immediately jumped up, ready to fight Malfoy if they had to. However, they never got the chance, because Professor McGonagall, who could smell trouble a mile away, had materialized out of nowhere and was ready to diffuse the situation.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Draco scowled and dropped it back on the table, and after he left, Ron and Harry sat back down, both of them looking mildly disappointed.

That afternoon, the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins made their way down to the lawn for their first flying lesson. There were lines of broomsticks on the ground there as well, and as Madam Hooch, their flying instructor, arrived, Emma and the others took their places next to the broomsticks. They were instructed to hold their hands over their brooms and shout, _"Up!"._ When they did, Harry, Emma, Draco Malfoy and two others were the only students whose brooms flew straight into their waiting palms. Emma closed her hand around the wooden handle, glad to find that it seemed she and her brother had this in common, as he was looking surprised and pleased. They were all taught how to properly mount their brooms, and then Madam Hooch marched up and down the rows, correcting their grips when necessary; most of the Gryffindors, but especially the Potters and Ron, were pleased to overhear her telling Draco he'd been doing it wrong his whole life.

Madam Hooch instructed them to kick off when she blew her whistle and then to hover above the ground before landing by leaning forward. However, before she had even blown the whistle, Neville had kicked off the ground in nervous anticipation and before Emma had a chance to process what had happened, he was rising above them at an alarming rate. Madam Hooch was shouting for him to come back, but it was to no avail. As they all watched, Neville slipped off his broom and came crashing to the earth below him, while his broom continued to rise, drifting lazily toward the Forbidden Forest.

As Madam Hooch helped Neville up and headed off to the Hospital Wing with him, she firmly instructed the rest of the students that they were to stay on the ground while she was gone, or face expulsion.

Neville and Madam Hooch were no sooner out of earshot did Draco Malfoy burst into laughter, leading the other Slytherins, who quickly joined in whilst the Gryffindors glared in his direction.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" asked a hard-faced Slytherin girl called Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, and Emma watched him walk over and pick up Neville's Remembrall out of the grass. Emma and Harry exchanged a look, and then, silently, the two of them approached Malfoy together.

"Oh, look who it is," Malfoy sneered. "The Potter Twinsies."

"Give that here, Malfoy," Emma said, her voice dangerously low. Everyone had stopped talking to watch the exchange. Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find- how about- up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled. He was too late, though, because Malfoy had gotten onto his broom and had taken off. He hadn't been lying, Emma realized; he could fly well. He hovered near the top of a nearby oak tree and called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry reached for a broom, and Emma held out a hand to stop him.

"Harry, come on," she implored quietly. "You've never flown before." Harry had just opened his mouth to respond when Hermione interrupted.

"No!" she shouted. "Madam Hooch told us not to move- you'll get us all into trouble." Harry glanced between Hermione and his sister, then shrugged, feeling rather reckless, yet at once wonderfully brave.

He climbed onto his broom and kicked off the ground, soaring high into the air until he was level with Malfoy.

"So much for not having as much nerve as I do," Emma muttered under her breath, stepping back to watch the exchange between her brother and Draco Malfoy, who was looking rather shocked, a fact which made Emma feel proud.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy replied. Emma watched him attempt to look as confident as he had before, and fail. It seemed that Harry's lack of experience was trumped by natural talent and instinct; he shot toward Malfoy, who only just got out of the way in time.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

"Catch it if you can, then!" Malfoy shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air. For a moment, Emma was certain it was going to come crashing down; there was no way Harry would be able to catch it...right?

Yet, as she watched, he did just that, catching the ball only a foot above the ground, by which time Emma was more concerned about Harry than the Remembrall. However, he pulled neatly out of the dive and toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched in his hand. He looked up and met Emma's gaze; she laughed and smiled proudly at her twin. He grinned back at her, and she felt something warm flood her chest, only to be replaced a moment later by intense dread at the sound of a familiar voice, in a tone that made her wince.

"HARRY POTTER!" shouted Minerva McGonagall, and Emma watched Harry turn pale. As McGonagall sputtered various pieces of sentences- a sure sign she'd really been taken aback, Emma knew- and various Gryffindors tried to defend Harry, Emma frowned in disgust at the triumphant looks from the Slytherins.

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall was saying, "Potter, follow me, now."

Harry shot Emma a somewhat sad look over his shoulder as he followed the professor, and Emma was left to wonder if her time with her brother was about to be cut short before it had a chance to really begin.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry for the wait! Chapter Uploads should, hopefully, be regular again now!_

* * *

"You're _joking_."

It was dinnertime, and Harry had just finished telling Ron and Emma what had transpired after Professor McGonagall had led him away from their flying lesson.

" _Seeker?_ " Ron said. "But first years _never_ \- you must be the youngest house player in about-"

"-a century," Harry finished. "Wood told me."

"I heard Gryffindor's last seeker gave up flying permanently after the accident she had last year. Got sent to St. Mungo's and everything," Emma was saying, but stopped suddenly at the look of horror on her brother's face. "I'm sure you'll be fine, though," she added hastily, turning quickly back to her food. There was only a beat of silence before Harry's excitement took over again. Emma was grateful for that; she'd not meant to scare him; her words had come spilling from her mouth, almost certainly a direct result of her intense relief that Harry wasn't being expelled from Hogwarts.

"I start training next week," Harry was saying to them. "Only don't tell anyone. Wood wants to keep it a secret."

It was then that Fred and George Weasley spotted Harry and came rushing over.

"Well done," George said, his voice low. "Wood told us. We're on the team too- Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy," Emma remarked. She grinned. "Found it when I was five."

Fred and George had just left when someone much less pleasant arrived; Malfoy, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle, whose only purpose seemed to be to look threatening, walked up to their table, sneering.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now than you were up there on that broom, Malfoy," Emma said in a cool voice.

"I'd take on your scrawny brother on my own any time," Malfoy said, narrowing his eyes at Emma, who raised her eyebrows at him. "Tonight, if you want," he continued. "Wizards duel. Wands only- no contact. What's the matter, Harry?" he added, swinging his gaze from Emma to Harry quickly. "Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," Emma replied quickly. Harry had to struggle not to shoot her a look of confusion. "I'm his second, who's yours?" Malfoy took a moment to decide between Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said decisively. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy was gone, Harry wheeled around on his sister.

"What is a wizard's duel?" he asked. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

Ron quickly explained that a second was the person who took over the duel if Harry died, causing Harry to turn very pale very quickly.

"Don't worry," Emma said, waving her hand casually. "The most you and Malfoy will be able to do won't cause any real damage anyway."

They were discussing the strategy of punching Malfoy in the face, in the case that Harry waved his wand and nothing happened, when Hermione interrupted them.

"Excuse me," she said.

"Can't a person eat around here?" Ron muttered in the direction of his steak and kidney pie. Hermione ignored him, turning to look imploringly at Emma.

"Emma, you can't be seriously considering this," Hermione said.

"Oh, Hermione, lighten up," Emma said.

"You _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lost Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you," she was saying, her speed increasing as she became more and more passionate. Emma quickly jumped up from her seat, gathering her schoolbag.

"Come on, Hermione," she said, adopting a sort of soothing tone, "Let's go to the library, shall we? I've been meaning to talk to you about the finer points of that Transfiguration essay."

As the two girls left, Emma shot Harry a look and he laughed, grateful to his sister, even if she was about to suffer at least an hour of Hermione's passionate rambling about the finer points of turning a matchstick into a needle.

* * *

Later that night, Harry and Ron descended the stairs to the common room, finding Emma waiting there for them already. They had almost reached the door when a familiar voice rang out from a nearby chair.

"I can't believe you're actually going through with this," said Hermione Granger.

"I thought you were sleeping!" Emma exclaimed. She turned to Ron and Harry, and said, "I thought she was sleeping!"

"Hermione," Ron groaned. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped. "Percy- he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Emma groaned. She'd been hoping her transfiguration essay would have been enough to distract Hermione- clearly, it had not.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron; he knew they needed to get going, or they would be late. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through.

Hermione, however, wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed them through the portrait hole, hissing quietly at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I won from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away!" Ron said.

"Fine!" Hermione snapped, but when the four of them turned around, it was only to find themselves facing an empty painting, because the Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit. Hermione, it seemed, was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked, her voice very shrill. Emma rubbed her ear a little, regretting standing so close to Hermione. Ron informed her that that was her problem, and turned away.

"Just- just come with us," Emma said to Hermione.

"No!" Ron hissed. Emma glared at him, and he fell silent. They were arguing this point when Harry suddenly told them all to shut up, and the corridor fell silent.

"I thought I heard something," Harry breathed. They all listened; it was a sort of snuffling sound, and while three of the four of them feared it would be Mrs. Norris, it turned out to be Neville Longbottom, who was sleeping on the ground. He awoke as they drew near, exclaiming in relief how glad he was that they'd found him, because he'd forgotten the password.

"Password's 'pig snout', but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady is gone," Harry told him. "Listen, Neville, we've got somewhere to be so we've got to be going."

Neville protested immediately, saying something about the Bloody Baron having drifted past twice already.

Ron looked at his watch, and then furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, and Emma suspected she was about to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and she closed her mouth as they all crept forward.

It was a nerve wracking journey across the castle, but they reached the trophy room without incident, only to find it empty; it seemed Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. They waited in the shadows, but as the minutes ticked by it became apparent that Malfoy wasn't coming.

It was then that they heard Filch's voice, and the realization that they'd been set up set in.

They stayed frozen in the shadows for a moment, and then Mrs. Norris' glowing yellow eyes became visible in the dimly lit room. They all seemed to hold their breath- all that is, except for Emma, who took a soft step forward, crouching down so she was level with Mrs. Norris. Behind her, Hermione took a sharp breath in.

"Shh," Emma whispered imploringly to Mrs. Norris, who stood still, her head under Emma's outstretched hand. Later, Harry would swear he'd seen Mrs. Norris' small head bob up and down in a nod. Emma stood quickly and turned to the others.

"Run," she breathed. They didn't need telling twice- they all turned to run. However, she hadn't accounted for Neville's presence with them. He tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the two of them toppled into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing was enough to wake the whole castle.

"Run!" Harry said, considerably louder than his sister had. They heeded his words; all five of them took off as fast as they could, Harry in the lead, none of them knowing where they were going. Even Emma, who knew the castle well, was in an adrenaline-induced race, not paying one iota of attention to where she was going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted.

"I- told- you," Hermione gasped, clutching the stitch in her side as Neville bent double, wheezing.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower, as quickly as possible." Emma turned in the direction of the way she knew would lead them to Gryffindor Tower; however, they quickly discovered that it wasn't going to be that simple.

For, hovering halfway down the hallway that they needed to go down, was Peeves the poltergeist. He gave a squeal of delight at the sight of students, but faltered a little when he saw Emma, who had once helped him play a prank on a group of older students that she had spied treating a first year cruelly. She'd been only eight at the time, but since then she'd gained favor with Peeves unlike any other student.

"Emma," he said.

"Peeves- please-" she begged. "Please, we just need to get back to Gryffindor tower." Peeves seemed to be considering her request, torn between loyalty to the raven-haired girl and his love of tormenting students. Then, Ron made the fatal mistake; he took an annoyed swipe at Peeves.

"Ron!" Emma groaned as Peeves began to shout, zooming wildly around the corridor, his words echoing in the stone.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" he bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

They ran for their lives yet again; however, they were too focused on getting away and hiding that they did not head in the direction of Gryffindor tower. Instead, they slammed into a locked door.

"This is it," Ron moaned as they pushed helplessly at the door. "This is the end! We're done for!"

"Oh, move over!" Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand right out of his hand and muttered, "Alohomora!". The lock clicked and suddenly the door was open. The five Gryffindors piled inside and slammed it shut behind them. They could hear Filch begging Peeves to tell him where the students had gone, but thankfully, Peeves wasn't telling him anything. He seemed to enjoy tormenting Filch as much as he did the students.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry was whispering. "I think we'll be okay- Neville, get _off_!" For Neville had been tugging at the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. " _What?_ "

Harry and Emma both turned around and saw exactly what Neville had been trying to alert them to.

They weren't in a room, as they had assumed, but rather a corridor. The corridor on the third floor that Dumbledore had told them at the start of term was forbidden, in fact. Now, they saw exactly why it was forbidden.

They were looking right at a monstrous dog with three heads. It was standing quite still, all six of its eyes staring right at them.

Harry groped at the doorknob- between Filch and death, he would take Filch.

Once all five of them were back out of the door, Emma slammed it shut and turned to find the corridor blessedly empty; it seemed the caretaker had left to search for them somewhere else.

For the third time, they all looked at each other and ran. Emma, knowing where she was going, took the lead as they all sprinted back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Where have you all been?" the Fat Lady asked incredulously when they reached her portrait.

"Never mind that- pig snout, pig snout," Harry panted, and the portrait swung open. All five of them tumbled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room.

It was very quiet for a while- indeed, Neville looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron asked finally.

"Thing?" Emma repeated, looking somewhat offended. "He's not a thing, Ron, he's a creature like any other." She got a sort of wistful look on her face, and added in a whisper, "I thought he was beautiful."

"What?" Ron asked, gaping at her in disbelief. Emma just shrugged.

Harry thought to himself that his sister had spent too much time with Hagrid growing up.

Hermione, however, seemed to have gotten both her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry guessed; clearly, he'd been too busy looking at the dog's three heads to notice, but Emma was a little more observant than her brother.

"A trap door," she replied. Hermione looked only vaguely surprised.

"Exactly," she said, "It's obviously guarding something." Then, she shot a glare aimed mostly at the boys. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves," she said. We could all have been killed- or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

She stalked off and, as Emma headed after her, she heard Ron mutter, "No, we don't mind. You'd think we dragged her along." She smiled slightly to herself, but as she climbed into her four-poster bed, she couldn't stop wondering about that trap door.

' _It's obviously guarding something,'_ Hermione had said. Emma thought back to Harry's tale about his first day in the wizarding world, the small package in the vault at Gringotts, the subsequent break-in. As Emma tried to get to sleep, she couldn't help but think that she now knew where that little package had ended up.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, she was discussing that very thing with Harry, who she discovered had been thinking along the same lines as her.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," Ron theorized as to what exactly the dog was guarding.

"Or both," Emma and Harry said together. They looked at one another in slight surprise, and then quietly returned to their breakfast. The mail arrived soon after that, and Harry was surprised when a large package fell onto the table before him, with a letter that fluttered down on top of it.

It instructed him not to open the parcel at the table, for it contained a new Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick, and informed him that he was to meet Oliver Wood at the Quidditch pitch for his first training session at seven that evening.

He passed this letter along to Ron and Emma, who both read it quickly.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

The three of them left the hall rather quickly, eager to open the broomstick before classes began for the day, but they were interrupted by Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Malfoy, who never seemed to be bothered by manners, grabbed the package from Harry and examined it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, tossing it back to Harry. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them," he spat.

Ron could not resist, apparently.

"It's not just any broomstick," he divulged. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What was it you said you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Malfoy was in the middle of a harsh rebuttal about how Ron wouldn't know anything about it, since he wouldn't be able to afford half the handle, when tiny Professor Flitwick approached them.

"Not arguing, I hope?" he squeaked, looking around at all of them.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy said quickly. For such a rule breaker himself, he was quite the tattletale.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," Harry said, fighting back laughter. Emma determinedly avoided looking at her brother, knowing that if she met his eyes, she would lose all her composure. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," Harry added with a grin.

This time, Emma didn't need to look at him to lose it; she laughed and quickly covered her mouth as she turned toward the stairs to avoid Professor Flitwick's confused look.

Her twin, she was discovering, was really quite funny.


End file.
